


Letting the Genius out of the Bottle

by starkind



Series: Genius In The Making [3]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), DC Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Boys Kissing, Boys' Love, Consensual Underage Sex, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drug Abuse, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Gen, M/M, Male Slash, Mutual Pining, Public Hand Jobs, Recreational Drug Use, Street Racing, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Kissing, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1987, things change.<br/>A lot of them for the better, some of them for the worse.<br/>Tony and Bruce take it the way they usually do - together. </p><p>Or don't they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We are slowly approaching higher ratings, and a tagging selection that kinda reads like no good. Ah well, there could be worse - things will stay within limits. Separate warnings will be given for potentially 'squicky' chapters.

The year Tony would go and get his undergrad degree in electrical engineering, spring break was upon them at the end of March 1987. Tony, in particular, had been yearning for some relief, in form of nine days away from studying before things got serious. It was also their first real vacation after the Holidays. “How bout Mexico, hm? Wanna go loco, down in Acapulco?”  
  
At the suggestive eyebrow wiggle, Bruce groaned and ran a hand through his hair which had grown out to cover his neck. “Your standards have clearly reached a sad, new low.” Tony then rolled his eyes for him to see. “YOU gotta talk, Mister Achy-breaky-bad-mistakey. Be glad I take you and your mullet along.“ After some toing and froing, the two of them still managed to sit down, browsed catalogs, and came to a final decision.

Two days and a four-hour flight to Florida later, they arrived at the Texan Hotel Daytona Beach. Stark Jr had gone and gotten a room that was front row with an exclusive view on any events happening on the stage, where MTV was hosting their annual spring break concert. Bruce complained about the noise level all the way from unpacking their suitcases down to the pool.

“Sheesh galore, Moosh, will you cut it? It's not likely for _any_ of us to get some shuteye.”  
His elder friend gave no reply, and Tony caught him ogling a group of female seniors in bikinis.  
“Huh? What?”

Tony then slapped his arm with more force than necessary. He wore an annoyed expression all of a sudden and slammed his shades on with a resolute motion. “Roll that tongue back in, Waynster. Come on, I wanna go down to the beach and work on my tan.” Fair-skinned Bruce Wayne got himself a spot under a canopied recliner and watched in envy how Tony's olive complexion soaked up the rays of the sun without complaint.

They took turns in going for a swim in the ocean, to keep an eye on their belongings at the crowded beach.  
  
Once Bruce strode back over to their spot, dripping wet, he saw from afar how three, tall guys stood around Tony's recliner. Instinctively Wayne began to walk faster, only to witness his best friend reaching up to grab a little package from one of the guys in exchange for a few bills. As soon as he had reached them, the elder men moved on, after trading some fist bumps with the young Stark heir.

Bruce watched them stroll away with a mistrusting expression and reached for his towel.  
Tony pushed his shades up on his head and watched his motions.  
His mouth warped into a naughty smirk.

“First-class male.”  
Bruce frowned as he toweled the back of his head.  
“Come again?”

Tony stretched out on the recliner with lazy satisfaction. He blinked and squinted upwards.  
“You. Looking like that guy from the Fruit of the Loom underwear ad. It's hot.“  
Bruce used the damp towel to wipe over his face and rub away the blush there.

He threw the towel onto his deck chair and himself onto it.  
“What did these guys want?”  
The Stark smirk turned into a deflecting one.  
  
“Question's rather – what did _I_ want?”  
The Gothamite narrowed his eyes.  
“If this is any kind of illegal...”

A bright, white smile. A stub of the toe to his still wet, fair-haired legs.  
“Nah, Moosh, it's all good. All natural, and all good.”  
Tony then flopped over and turned onto his stomach. He crossed his arms under his head.

“Put on some lotion on my back there, will ya?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you run a picture search on google for 'Fruit of the Loom first class male', you should get the aforementioned fashion underwear ad and get to see what Tony's seeing. Kind of. Nevermind the undies that are... very retro. Oh, 80's.


	2. Chapter 2

The ridiculous tunes of 'La Bamba' blasted all across the vast pool side of the hotel complex. Bruce had to refrain from ogling Tony's behind as it swayed seductively in too tight, palm-patterned swim trunks right in front of him. Stark Jr shimmied through the crowd with ease, his scrawny upper body hidden underneath a cropped, loose tank top in bright red.

More often than not, people left and right would halt their steps. Girls in bikinis smooched Tony on the cheek, and dudes in speedos squeezed past Bruce to greet the young, wealthy graduate in the making. People called him 'Amex' if they did not know his name, and Tony loved flashing his unique black credit card almost as much as he loved partying of the expensive kind.

Ever since Tony was supplying nearly the whole campus with gifts of the more or less legal kind, his reputation had gone from strange freak to first class hustler in less than a year. It had even preceded him across the Floridian border, along with many fellow students from MIT.

Eyes hidden behind a huge pair of mirrored aviator shades, Tony twisted around to grace his best friend with a pearly white grin. Sometimes Bruce missed seeing that certain, big tooth gap of his. Tony had eventually gotten it fixed over the course of many previous months; with the help of an orthodontist, and an ungodly apparatus he had to wear during countless nights.

“Hey Moosh, what'cha wanna drink? S'all on me tonight, I'm splurging.”  
  
The Gothamite shrugged his shoulders and tugged on the waistband of his blue swim shorts. He wore a plain white t-shirt and had refrained from styling his hair, unlike Tony, who wore his thick mane sprayed tight into his favorite Mohawk-inspired hairdo. The shorter boy then gave his friend a thumbs up gesture and motioned for him to wait.

To the catchy tunes of Los Lobos, Tony sashayed off. He paused only to light another cigarette on the way and left a thin trail of smoke behind. Awkward, young Wayne moved out of the inner circle of the dancing crowd, over to a couple of white, plastic pub tables filled with empty cups. He shoved them aside and watched how Tony headed for the nearest pool bar.

The Stark heir did not get far, however, caught up by two petite girls with ample figures. They tried to lure him into a dance, and Stark's mouth curled into a smile around his cigarette. He took one of the girls by the hand and twirled her around once, only to move on with a smooth spin of the heel. Bruce's face darkened when she pinched Tony's butt in passing.

“This place taken already?”  
Bewildered, the Gothamite stared at a tall brunette with cropped hair and olive skin.  
“Soon enough.”

His awkward bluntness made her laugh. She slipped her bottle of Busch Light onto the table.  
“Wow, don't go all gentleman on me at once. I promise once your girl comes back, I'll scram.”  
It prompted Bruce to give a sarcastic snort. He looked back at the crowd. Tony was gone.  
  
“You'll be waiting till kingdom comes then.”  
Her pinkish, glossy lips parted in delight and she tugged at her bikini top.  
“Wise decision. Nobody comes and leaves this place as a couple anyhow.”

Bruce straightened up to his full height and squared his shoulders. His eyes inconspicuously searched the moving crowd in front of him for a potential sign of his friend's return. The girl next to him got his attention again by dipping the bottom of her bottle upon the tabletop.

“Why don't you take off your shirt like the rest around here? You look like you can afford it.”  
She made a point in roaming her eyes around his torso.  
Bruce hated his pale skin for allowing a blush to creep through the faintest shade of tan he had acquired over the past days.

“Why? I don't even know you.”  
The svelte young woman put her arms on the table.  
Wayne Jr could not help but gawk at her full breasts as she leaned over towards him with a conspirative expression.

“Name's Selina.”  
Her green eyes held an impish glint.  
“And who might you be?”

His eyes flew back to her face.  
“Bruce.”  
Selina gave another, feline smile and took a sip of her beer.  
  
“Now that that's settled, there's no need to be shy, Bruce. Take off that shirt, please. For me?”  
Unsure how to deal with such blatant female boldness, the Gothamite tried to reason at first.  
Eventually, though, he complied with a rather bashful quick pull of the fabric. Selina whistled.

“Wow, that's nice. You got a real rad bod, Bruce, anyone ever told ya?”  
He followed her line of view as if seeing himself for the very first time.  
“I just like to work out, that's all.”

She began to move her shoulders to the first beats of Whitney Houston's latest single.  
“Hunky _and_ modest. Which rock have you been living under, sugar, hm? You're a rare breed.”  
Selina then finished her beer and pushed the empty bottle onto the far end of the table.

“Wanna dance with me? Whitney tells me I need somebody.”  
Bruce Wayne's face and neck region flushed beet red. He desperately kept a lookout for Tony.  
“I'm sorry, I can't. I'm-- I'm waiting for someone.”  
  
He balled his t-shirt tight in his hand and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Selina smirked.  
“Hey, that's fine, really, no worries. Guess I'll see you around later then, okay?”  
With a smooth motion, she slid up to him and raked her long, red nails square over his chest.

“Too bad, really. Bye, sugarpie.”  
She blew him a final kiss and moved on, hips swinging with grace.  
Bruce stared after her.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution ahead for tipsy but consensual third base stuff between teenaged boys

“Dang, homefry, I'm gone for a sec and you're already scrapin' and scammin' this place?”  
The look Bruce cast Tony upon his return was a mixture between horrified and scandalized.  
“What? No! I just told her...”  
  
Angry at himself, Bruce clamped his mouth shut and glowered as he slipped his shirt back on. Tony nudged his shoulder with a knowing, playful grin and placed two solid tumblers filled with a brownish concoction on the table. Each drink had a small straw, some mint leaves on top and was filled to the brim with ice cubes. The Gothamite eyed them with mistrust.  
  
“What's that?”  
Tony made a knowing face and wiggled his eyebrows. He then raised one of the glasses.  
“It's called a Mind Eraser. Cheers!”

Bruce pulled a face bordering on disgust after he had taken a closer sniff.  
“I'm not drinking that. And how'd you get it anyhow? Don't they ask for ID's round here?”  
Tony blinked up at him through his long lashes, playing coy as he sucked on the straw.

“No worries. C'mon now, try it – and drink it up. You won't remember anyhow.”  
After the first few sips, Bruce wondered why he had been so disapproving from the get go.  
He even finished his drink first and was gone for seconds before Tony could say a word.

Two Mind Erasers later, Wayne surprised his friend by asking him for a cigarette, much to Stark's disapproval. Tony moved closer to hold a lit match for him to use. In no time, puffs of smoke filled the air. Tony blew out the match and threw it into the nearby ashtray. “Can't believe this. You always said I was a bad influence. There we have it.” He watched the Gothamite probe around the smoke in his mouth before he exhaled.  
  
“You're so much more, Tony.”

When Bruce left it at that cryptic exclamation, Tony chose to focus on the way his long fingers held the smoldering cigarette in between index and middle finger. His eyes then followed the little glowing point up to where Wayne took another drag. A fine line of smoke escaped his half-opened lips soon after before Bruce handed the cigarette over to his friend.

Without breaking eye contact, Tony took it and put his lips on the same spot as Bruce.  
The crepe paper around the filter was warm but dry.  
After a long, final drag, Tony flicked the remains aside and emptied the rest of his cocktail.  
  
“I'm a little indecisive on what's next.”  
  
They were standing so close that he could see the little beads of sweat on Bruce's upper lip. Stark's voice was not yet slurred, but he swayed a little against his friend's solid body as he turned around to look at the bar. Out of nowhere, Wayne's hand went around his waist to steady him. It landed right on the bit of skin between Tony's swim trunks and his t-shirt.  
  
“What choices do we have?”  
Bruce's voice was husky as he bent down to make sure Tony understood him over the music.  
“Kamikazes? Or Alabama Slammer. Melon Balls. Harveys Wallbanger – if you're interested.“  
  
The Gothamite nodded along as Stark Jr pointed towards the huge wooden panel over the bar.  
“Show me what you want, Tony.”  
Their heads were close as they examined the sheer endless selection of mixed drinks together.

“There's always Sex on the Beach, of course, Purple Passion... or some good old Orgasms.”  
Even as he read it aloud, Tony began to feel himself getting hard. He swallowed for distraction.  
Bruce's skin was warm on his, and his fingers were still ghosting along Tony's hipbone.  
  
“Mhm. How about a 'Long, Slow, Comfortable Screw Up Against A Wall'? Ever had that one?”  
Tony turned his face so fast that the tip of his nose brushed against Bruce's.  
“Um, Moosh, that's... I mean, I, uh, kinda...”

Hazel eyes then bore into his; intense and almost predatory.  
“Kinda what?”  
An unfamiliar mixture of smoke and sweet drinks was on his breath. Tony found it intoxicating.

“Right now I kinda want to...”  
By instinct, his eyes landed on Bruce's mouth.  
Tony then wet his lips and found his opposite mimicking his gaze.  
  
“Why don't you?”  
The fingers of Wayne's hand tightened ever so slightly around his hip.  
Tony twisted until they were standing face to face, never taking his eyes off of Bruce.  
  
“Because I might... I'll – be wanting more if I do.”  
As Bruce put both his hands on his hips, Tony's palms began to find their way upon his chest.  
He could feel Bruce heart beating fast and hard. And felt something else further down below.

“Good.”  
  
It was all the answer Stark Jr needed. Their lips met halfway; with Bruce leaning forward and Tony pushing himself up on his toes. Upon the first contact, they all but jolted from the unfamiliar but pleasurable feeling. Tony's fingers involuntarily clenched around a pair of solid pecs. “I'm so hard for you right now.” Through the haze of delight, Bruce sensed rather than heard Tony mumble against his mouth.  
  
“Hotel?”  
  
Wayne's breathed question brought him out of his heady stupor, and the younger boy glimpsed around, before glimpsing down both of their swim shorts. “Too late and too far away. Come.” Tony all but dragged his taller, heavier friend through the crowd with a never displayed urge. Bruce's fingers were warm and intertwined with his, and Tony had to watch his steps as his level of inebriation also made walking difficult.

They turned around a corner and found themselves an empty storage room where the hotel kept all their recliners and pool toys. The room smelled of chlorine and stale air, but once the door was locked behind them, so were their mouths. The faint light from the party illumination outside fell through a small, dusty window high above their heads, as Bruce put his hands around Tony's rear and pulled him close.

Through the thin fabric of their swimwear, their erections rubbed together almost seamless, and when Tony tilted his head, Bruce sucked on the side of his neck before he grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it over Tony's head to throw it aside. “Don't tell me you haven't done this befo... holy moly!” The younger boy's voice hitched as a leg found its way in between Tony's, and Bruce ground his pelvis against him.

“Thinking about it – yes. Doing it – no.”  
  
Bruce's voice was rough, even if his ministrations were not. Tony fumbled to get the hindrance that was Bruce's shirt off in growing need. Wayne paused running his hands through Tony's spiky hairdo only long enough to rid himself of the bothersome fabric.

“Ain't I... s'pposed... to be... the horny one of us?”  
He was meanwhile cupping and fondling a very prominent bulge, to which Bruce grunted.  
“Debatable.”

With a resolute yank, he freed Tony from his confines and wrapped his fingers around his hardened shaft. When Bruce applied the very few first, firm strokes, Tony nearly cried out. Under gratifying attack, he captured Bruce's lips again, opened his mouth and got a taste. At the same time, Tony wound his hand inside the pair of trunks and began to explore the new territory.

Never before had he heard Bruce make such guttural sounds.  
To know that it was him who was causing such pleasure led Tony to take a deep breath to calm his teetering nerves.  
“God, Bruce, I'm so close, I can't...”  
  
He felt his friend reach out between the two of them, as Wayne took both of their lengths into one hand and began to work up a fast rhythm. Tony steadied himself with his hands on Bruce's shoulders and jutted his head forward to hold on to a kiss that lasted until he came with a muffled cry against the Gothamite's lips. Wayne followed him over the edge no second later.

As he held their still twitching cocks in his hand, Bruce slumped forward, wedged Tony in between his body and the back of a lifebelt showcase, and braced himself against the glass. Once he had caught his breath again, Stark moved his fingers to cup his friend's flushed face.

“That was...”  
Bruce opened his eyes and studied Tony's close up features.  
“Yeah.”

When his body complied again, Wayne released his grip on both of them and snatched his discarded t-shirt to wipe the evidential remains away. As each of them pulled their swim trunks back up, Tony threw his shirt over one shoulder, while Bruce balled his stained one in his fist.

“So... this the moment where we declare our undeniable love for each other?”  
Bruce briefly narrowed his eyes at Tony's quipping tone. Then he cracked a smirk.  
“Go for it – I'm all ears.”

Young Anthony Stark started to chuckle and tackled him in playful giddiness from his post-orgasm high. Instead of an answer, Bruce then chased him down to the nearest pool, where they threw their shirts aside, jumped in, and let the cool blue wash over their heated bodies.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll up the ante for some heterosexual fourth base in this one.

That night, The Beastie Boys played The Dating Game on MTV's Spring Break stage. High up in their hotel suite, two teenaged boys were oblivious to the hoot outside after stealing back into their room. Once the door shut behind them, it had been Tony who took the initiative. In no time, he and Bruce were a coiling mass of naked limbs, wet bangs, and chlorine-soaked skin, rolling around on Tony's bed.

“Who knew it'd take a Mind Eraser for you to make _up_ your mind, eh?”  
Stark Jr grinned down at the flushed countenance of his friend as he straddled him.  
“Who knew you'd have to get someone drunk to make _out_ with you?”  
  
Bruce's fingers dug into the lean flesh around Tony's hipbones.  
“Why, Moosh, you're sooo sprung on me, I'm positively sure. You've been pining forever!”  
Wayne Jr growled when the shorter boy ground his pelvis against his.  
  
“Have not! I'm not...gay or something.”  
Embarrassed he glimpsed down at his body and its reactions that betrayed his mumblings.  
Tony laughed in his face and began to fondle him.  
  
“Of course not, you look downright disgusted there.”  
His mocking tone got Bruce to furrow his brows in uprising irritation.  
“Step off! Get off me. Now!”  
  
When the younger boy did not react immediately after, Wayne grabbed him by the hips and threw him aside onto the mattress. Dismayed, Tony yelped out and made a move to gain back territory. Bruce stopped his clamor by slipping off the bed and heading for the bathroom. “Don't mistake this for more than it was. We're drunk, this is spring break. S'all.”  
  
Dumbfounded as to the sudden change in behavior and mood of his friend, Stark Jr threw himself on his side and yanked the blanket on top of his naked body. “Yeah, sure. Night, Moosh. Don't scream my name out too loud when you're jerking off there.” With a mumbled curse, Bruce slammed the door to the bathroom shut behind him.

Tony was asleep when the Gothamite re-emerged, showered and with brushed teeth, half an hour later. Bruce turned his back on him and lay in the semi-dark of their room while the party outside boomed through their closed windows. After tossing and turning for at least half an hour, he got back up, got dressed, and left the suite in silence.

He did not see the pair of dark eyes following his every move.

* * *

Running into Selina down in the crowd was easier than Bruce imagined. She recognized him in an instant, dragged him to the dance floor and began to work her magic on him. Young Wayne allowed his hands to come up and brush against her bikini-clad breasts, and she grinned.

“Changed your mind there, stud? Fine by me.”  
The kisses they shared tasted sweet and promising.  
Her hands interlinked in his nape, then Selina pressed herself up against Bruce's bare torso and nudged her knee to his groin.

“C'mon, time to take this somewhere cozier.”  
  
He followed her lead over to her room; a small and moreover messy two-bedroom with clothes strewn all over the floor. Taking on a passive role, Bruce watched her undress in front of his eyes, before she crawled upon the comforter and nestled in between his legs.

“I only do it with protection though. You came equipped there, Bruce?”  
Numb, the Gothamite shook his head no as he watched her peel down his swimming trunks.  
“Boys. Ah well, it pays off for a girl to always be prepared.”  
  
Her lithe, bare body brushed against his as Selina reached over towards the nightstand on the left. Bruce took the opportunity to lick at the one breast closest to his face. It elicited a small purr from her. From the corner of his eyes, he saw a little package in between her fingers. The young woman got back down to his meanwhile prominent arousal and stroked him a couple of times, watching his face.

Though quiet, Bruce's chest heaved harder than moments ago, and she ripped the wrapper open and rolled the condom down his shaft with expertise. Bruce allowed her to ride him with one hand steadying her hips, while his other roamed all over her body as he lay on his back and tried to keep his mind unclouded and in the present. Selina came with a drawn out moan about ten minutes later, shuddering with release.

Once her green eyes focused back on the smug person underneath her and his still present erection, she cocked an eyebrow. “You're really something else, stallion. If this wasn't just Daytona, I would take you home and fuck the living daylights outta you each day and night.” With an open-mouthed kiss, she slid off him, took the condom away and his length in her mouth.

It was the first time Bruce made a sound during their whole encounter.

Satisfied, Selina watched him close his eyes as his fingers dug into the mattress, and repeated the procedure. “I'm gonna blow, but I'm not gonna swallow, sweetie. Be a gentleman and give a heads up.” Through the haze that was her swirling tongue, Bruce soared upon the feeling of unresolved release, until he began to whimper and clenched his fists into the sheets with urgency.

Selina took her mouth away, replaced it with her hand, and got him off with a few final twisted strokes of her wrist. As he lay panting and sweating in the non-air conditioned room and gathered his bearings, her hourglass figure stood up and went into the bathroom. The sound of water running into the sink filled the air soon after, and the Wayne heir scrambled back into his trunks and fumbled for the keys to his room.

When the door unlocked moments later, Selina reappeared, wrapped in a medium-sized towel, and leaned against the doorway. “Thanks for the ride, stud. Feel free to come round whenever you like, I'm here the whole week.” With an awkward nod, Bruce headed for the door and took his leave. He kept his head down and went up the six flight of stairs on foot, the plush hotel carpet tickling his bare soles.

 


	5. Chapter 5

When he returned to his hotel room, it was 4:38 in the morning and Tony's bed was empty.  
  
Bruce sniffed at the peculiar smell that lingered in the room and went to open the windows. It was a pungent, oily herbal odor that made him a little nauseous. Sounds from the open but dark bathroom then caught his attention, and he went to switch the lights on. He found Tony Stark sitting in the empty bathtub, dressed in Bruce's gray sleeping shirt with the number 43 imprinted in big white lettering on front and back.

His thin legs were bare and folded at an awkward angle to fit into the cramped, enamel confines. An ashtray balanced dangerously on the rim. It was filled with greenish, messy stubs. “G'mornin, sunshine. Had a lov'ly _fuckin_ early breakfast?” Bruce frowned at his friend's red, glassy eyes, and the protruding strands of dark, unkempt hair. “How many of these have you smoked?”

The Gothamite hunkered down next to the tub, concerned. With difficulty, Tony's head lolled into his direction. Upon closer examination, his usually tanned skin looked ashen and clammy. “Dunno. Not enough to get motherf'kin high an' forget about las' night.” His slurred devastation made Bruce angry and sad at the same time. “C'mon, get out of there. Put your arms around my neck.”

It took five tries until Tony was able to do as he was told, and for Bruce to feel secure enough in lifting both of them up without throwing out his back, or letting Tony fall. Stark jr. nestled his head in the crook of his friend's neck as the latter carried him over onto his bed. “Y'don' like me an'more. Why?” The young genius sounded on the verge of crying. Bruce's fingers gripped his form tighter.  
  
“That's bull, Tony, you're my friend.”  
The dark mop of hair under his chin shook in a negating manner.  
“Nonnnno, I fuck'd up and did som'thin wrong, an... an... nowyouhateme.”  
  
The slurred voice broke and Tony's slim shoulders began to shake. With care, the Gothamite placed his upset charge onto the bed and pried Tony's arms off his neck. “Heyheyhey, shhh. I don't hate you, and you didn't fuck up anything, okay? I was just... I needed time to think, okay? Tony?” The younger boy curled up on his side, away from Bruce's scrutiny, and shook his head again.  
  
“I'm feeling sick.”  
Wayne went back to fetch a bucket from underneath the sink and filled it with a little water.  
“In there if you must.”

When Stark Jr made no move to grace him with either his face or an answer anymore, Bruce stumbled back into his own bed, pulled the covers up high, and tried to ignore the smell of Selina's overly vanilla-scented perfume that clung to his skin. At some point, his exhaustion got to him.

* * *

Tony woke to the feeling of his tongue heavy and foul in his mouth.

Bleary-eyed he took in the still darkened room and the person sleeping across from him. Through the fog and haze in his head, he tried to recall the how and when Bruce had gotten back, and both of them into bed. Just then, the Gothamite stirred and began to stretch under his blanket. Two pairs of eyes met mere seconds later, a faint hesitation and wariness in their gazes.

Bruce peeked down into the still empty bucket at Tony's bed and back up at the crumpled appearance of his friend.

“You okay?”  
A sound between a groan and a sigh found its way out of Tony's mouth.  
“Been better.”  
  
With attempted bravado, Tony slung back the covers, frowned at his night attire, and stood up.  
“About last night...”  
Bruce's voice was cautious, and he turned onto his back and ran his hands through his hair.  
  
“A one-off, sure, no hard feelings. We're good, Moosh. Can I go first? I really need to piss.”  
Tony pointed into the direction of the bathroom. Bruce heaved a deep breath.  
“No - I mean... yes, go ahead, but...”

Without waiting for him to stumble over explanations, Stark Jr grinned an empty, vapid grin and locked the door behind him. After the flush of the toilet, Bruce heard the sounds of running water. It lasted for ten minutes, then Tony cleared the bathroom. He was wrapped from head to toe into one of the huge hotel bathrobes and stepped aside to wait until his friend went for the lavatory before he changed into fresh clothes.

When Bruce reemerged, shaved and smelling like his usual self, Tony sat out on their balcony. He was sipping on what looked to be fresh orange juice, wore a pair of dark sunglasses, and did not bother to turn around when Bruce occupied the second deck chair next to him. “Where'd you get that OJ?” Tony took another big gulp, emptied the glass, and put it down to his feet.  
  
“Room service.”  
Bruce's made a noncommittal sound and peeked back into their room.  
“Nothing else?”  
  
The younger boy slid deeper into his chair and crossed his hands upon his stomach.  
“Nope. Wasn't hungry.”  
His voice held a snide undertone, to which Bruce pinched his lips together and stood up.  
  
“Well, I am. Gonna go get something to eat. You wanna stay in?”  
Instead of an answer, Tony raised a limp hand to wave, or maybe shoo him goodbye.  
Irritated, Bruce grabbed his wallet. He slammed the door shut with more force than necessary.

 


	6. Chapter 6

After wolfing down a batch of waffles and a bitter cup of coffee from a commission stand on the promenade, Bruce went for a run at the beach. He took off too fast; his anger, the sugar high, and jitters from caffeine a mixture to assure him a great pace. The shoreline was endless, and soon, all the hassle that was spring break lay past him as sand crunched under his sneakers.

Fifteen minutes in, his stomach began to churn from the greasy food, and side stitches plagued him until he stopped and had to walk on ever so often. After forty minutes of one-way torture, Bruce decided to abort his mission and turned around. By now, the hotel was just a small spot in the distance. The sun was out, a little past noon, searing hot on his skin, and he cursed himself for not applying sunscreen beforehand.

Too exhausted to attempt to run anymore, he eventually threw himself into the sand, arms and legs spread wide, and stared up at the blue sky. His throat felt parched, and his cheeks burned from sun exposure, but Bruce did not get up. The sounds of the ocean were soothing, but they soon mingled with the far away laughter and chatter of an awakening party crowd.

Many students were camping on the beaches after not getting a hotel in time, or for other reasons. With new-found strength, Bruce rolled back to his feet and slogged along through the sand towards the hotel complex looming up in the distance. His t-shirt was drenched in sweat and covered in sand, but he kept it on to avoid more sunburn on his chest.

From where he kept his eyes down and traced the shoreline, approaching motorized sounds caught his attention.

As he looked up, Bruce saw a small vehicle speeding into his direction, describing wild and rakish arcs from the shallow waters up to the sandy dunes. As it came closer, Bruce identified it as a red, 2-seat dune buggy with huge wheels. Its driver was pulling the wheel in daring motions, sending water and sand high up in the air.

With care, Bruce moved out of its way and kept his eyes trained on the vehicle to avoid a possible collision. Once he was able to make out the distinct form behind the wheel, Wayne stopped. Equipped with a pair of sunglasses and swimming trunks, Tony Stark was whipping the buggy through uneven terrain, his high-pitched whooping mingling with the exhaust sounds of the engine.

Next to him sat a blonde, busty girl, dressed in a skimpy bikini. She, however, looked like she had less fun than her host as she clawed her hands around the metal frame of the buggy. Tony continued to drive like a madman, about to scare as many students in his way off as possible. When they passed the Gothamite, Tony made a move to give yet another cocky grin but froze upon recognizing him.

He had to yank the wheel back around to avoid taking a header into the ocean. Though the buggy sped past, its driver still craned his neck backward two more times. Wayne Jr frowned and set off again into the opposite direction, one arm around his cramping stomach, and face down against the merciless rays of sunlight. Ten minutes later, the buggy approached him from behind.

Bruce kept on trudging; gaze down, teeth clenched. Tony brought the vehicle to a slow pace and rolled alongside him.  
“Moosh? Come on, hop in.”  
Wary, Bruce glimpsed sideways and found the passenger seat empty.  
  
“Where's your co-pilot?”  
He stopped walking with a barely contained groan of pain and eyed the hot rod red buggy.  
“Said she'd puke all over me if I didn't let her out. Prolly took the bus back. C'mon now.”

Tony made an inviting gesture, and Bruce swallowed all of his youthful pride and got in. As he lowered himself into the hard plastic seat, his friend cast him a thoughtful, if a bit concerned look over the rim of his shades. “You okay there? You look like a lobster. A... sick lobster.” Bruce made a tired gesture for him to get going, and Tony went, though at a more moderate pace than before.

“Forgot sunscreen and water, no big deal.”  
  
At the cool breeze that whipped at his heated face, the Gothamite leaned his head back and exhaled. A plastic bottle filled with moderately cool water landed in his lap. Dumbfounded Bruce stared at it for a split second, before the need to quench his thirst got him to empty the whole bottle in little to no time. He kept the empty bottle to fiddle with in between his fingers.

“Thanks. I owe you.”  
Surprised, Tony glimpsed at him, then clicked his tongue.  
“Nah, bull. You don't owe me anything.”

They did not take longer than ten more minutes to reach their hotel. While the Gothamite went to take a cool shower and laid down in bed, Tony inquired about remedies for sunburns at the reception. He came back with a bottle of calamine lotion, aspirin, and more water. After hiding most of Bruce's face, neck, arms and lower legs under a solid white sheen of lotion, the latter took two aspirin with a huge glass of water.

Tony soon nestled at the end of his bed, cross-legged, the bottle of calamine in his hands, and chewed on a piece of gum.  
“You're not allergic to zinc carbonate, right?”  
Bruce's white-painted face gleamed up at him as Tony skimmed along the patient information leaflet.

“NOW you ask?”  
The Stark scion waved him off and put the bottle on the nightstand.  
“It'll be fine. If not, we'll get to experiment on you – might grow a second head or something.”

With a groan, Bruce eased back into his pillow. “So much for spring break. I'll be looking like Freddy Krueger for the remaining five days!” Tony giggled and patted his covered shins with a placating expression. “Now, now – don't be too hard... on Freddy. You'll already be better by tomorrow, you'll see.” Wayne Jr flipped the bird at his friend and closed his eyes.

He heard and felt Tony scramble off his bed, only to receive a brief and almost too easy to miss pat upon his head.  
“Try n sleep some for now - once you feel better, _you_ get to drive the dune buggy, promise.”  
Bruce drifted off with a small smile on his lips.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underage drug abuse warnings for this chapter

“Hey, Amex – hey!”

Tony poked his head out from where he was nestled in between two girls in a hammock by the poolside. “Huh?” Two guys stood in front of them, ogling the girls and grinning at the Stark heir. “Heard you're the one to talk to around here when it comes to a little... extra fun.” One of the boys in his early twenties with dirty blonde, straight hair looked at him with a knowing grin.

Tony made a move to sit up and wiggle out from his sanctuary spot. The girls stretched back out in the space he vacated and propped their heads up on their arms. “Sure am. Depending on what's in it for me, that is.” He tilted his head and watched the two boys exchange a look. The one who had addressed him then held out his hand. “I'm Justin, this is Donny. C'mon, let's go for a drink first. My treat.”  
  
At the prospect of getting something stronger than Mountain Dew, Tony happily trotted along. Soon, the three of them stood a few tables away from the bar, and the elder boys watched how their new acquaintance slurped on his first real cocktail of the evening. Donny offered some cigarettes, to which both Tony and Justin accepted, and they smoked in comfortable silence.

“Ever been on a trip?”  
Tony tried for a suave manner around the straw of his Kamikaze cocktail.  
“Got some real nice pot from someone out in that green van outside the hotel, two days ago.”

Justin smirked like a shark and flicked off the ashes from his cigarette.  
“Nah man, not that lame stuff – I'm talking bout some cheer, acid, whatever you wanna call it.”  
The younger boy's eyes darted from Justin to Donny and back.

“Not gonna be easy to get round here anyhow.”  
Donny clapped his friend on the shoulder and went off into the crowd. Justin focused on Tony.  
“With the right amount of cash flow, anything's possible, Amex.”

Like a serpent, Justin then moved to stand next to the shorter boy and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.  
“By the way, got a real name there?”  
Squirming a little under the warm and sweaty fingers, the Stark heir slurped the rest of his cocktail and put the glass aside.

“Name's Tony. Where'd your friend go?”  
Justin began to steer him onwards, into the direction Donny had left.  
“Gone shopping. We're gonna have some fun now, Tony, c'mon.”

* * *

Tony was floating.  
He had always dreamed of being able to fly, even as a kid.  
The beach around him was drenched in lovely shades of purple, orange, and shimmering red.

He giggled as a huge butterfly tickled his nose, and tried to catch it with his clumsy hand. “You need a name, butterfly... can I call you Bruce? Bruce the butterfly. Sweet.” Clumsy, Tony turned around on his stomach and glimpsed upwards. “This is amaaaazeballs, it's like – whoa! Hey, guys, the sand's crawling away. Look!” His fingers dug into the swirling ground with mixing colors, and he took some of it into his mouth.

It did not taste as good as it looked, however, and he spat it off with disgusted sounds. He pressed his chin into the sand and tried not to blink as the scenery then seemed to stop. “Little Tony's trippin haaard.” Donny's voice was followed by some hollow laughter from Justin, as the two elder boys sat on a dune behind him, and marveled at their generous sponsor's hallucinations.

The Stark heir scrambled to his feet, grinned at them with a manic glint in his eyes, and held out a hand. “Gimme nother one.” Donny threw Justin a skeptical look. In no time, Tony had scrambled up their dune on all fours. “I paid for this shit, now Imma get another one.” The blonde boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag with little chips.  
  
“But don't'cha come crying like a baby when you get all freaked out.”  
He handed him another inch of a blotter that Tony promptly put on his tongue with a grin.  
“I'm the king of this whole goddamn jungle, monkey face, better go'n worship me, you ditz.”  
  
While Donny laughed, Justin reached out, put his foot into Tony's midriff, and pushed him.  
The latter toppled over backward, down the smallish dune, and landed on his rear, laughing.  
“Fuck you, Justin – you're a tool. I'll have you attacked by my armada of robots, then you'll beg. Beg your king for mercy, s'right!”  
  
Hysterical about his plans, Tony rolled back on all fours and began to collect arms full of sand. Dustin slapped his friend's arm. “C'mon, man, let's go. He's spacin' out for good.” Justin nodded and also got to his feet. Without another glance back, he followed Donny down towards the illuminated party crowd of the hotel strip on the other side of the street.  
  
Tony did not notice them leave, busy piling up a huge ring of sand around himself.  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ongoing underage drug abuse / influences of drug abuse.

When Bruce woke, it was nighttime and the party downstairs once again in full flow.

He looked at the little note Tony had left him, saying he was at the pool and went to the bathroom to examine his face. After rinsing off all remains from the dried up calamine lotion, Bruce was relieved to find his skin looking much better than hours ago, if still a little reddish. He slipped into a fresh t-shirt, shorts, some rubber sandals, and skipped downstairs.

Billy Idol's 'Mony Mony' reverberated through the night as Wayne Jr scanned the partying crowd for his friend. No luck, Bruce then started to ask around, only to receive blank stares or drunk retorts. After getting a dozen negative replies, slim fingers then wormed around his waist. “Hey there, Sexy, what'cha looking for tonight? Some more fun? I'd be in the mood.”  
  
Bruce took her hands off and turned around. Selina winked at him with a smirk.

“My friend's missing. About 5'7, dark hair, goes by Tony. Most girls round here know him.”  
Her delicate face morphed into something like a scrunch as she put a finger to her lips.  
“That Amex dude? Scrawny li'l wealthy guy from the east coast, with an ego twice his size?”

Eager, Bruce nodded along at her description. Much to his disappointment, Selina then shook her head.  
“Haven't seen him around tonight. But I can see if someone knows. Be right back.”  
With grace, she disappeared back into the crowd, and Bruce resumed his search alone.

After ten minutes, the tall brunette was back at his side. “Someone's seen him coupl'a hours ago with two guys at the beach. Dunno if they're still there.” Bruce thanked and squeezed past her to head for the promenade. He did not bother to wait, even as Selina yelled after him. The beach was populated and, thanks to many parking vans and little crowds of students barbequing and dancing, fairly lit.

The sand pooled between his toes as Bruce Wayne marched high and low the shoreline, until he finally saw a familiar figure huddled by the water. Tony was laying face up, arms and legs spread wide, with his head towards the sea. The waves washed around his hair and upper body in a steady flow. Bruce broke out into a fast jog, almost losing his shoes. He reached his friend and dropped to his knees beside him.

“Tony! What's wrong?”  
Wayne Jr grabbed the front of his soaked through t-shirt and pulled his torso up.  
Two large dark eyes took him in, disoriented at first. Then Tony's mouth warped into a smile.

“Bruuuuce – my butterfly! Look I created a fortress! You can come in, but just because you're a butterfly!”  
A huge frown crept upon the Gothamite's face, and he began to pull and drag at his friend's body.   
Soon he had him out of the shallow waters and cradled Tony's head in his lap.

“What happened? Are you okay? What did you do?”  
The younger boy laughed, pushed himself up, and wrapped his arms around his baffled friend.  
“I'm trippin... but shhh, don' let them caterpillar's hear that I told ya. Seeecret!”

His elder friend watched his off-kilter expressions and slurred words with growing rage.  
“Who did this, Tony? Who did this to you?”  
Seething, Bruce clenched his jaw and looked around.  
  
“My pawns... dude with a monkey face – other one I dunno. But I wanted to. Never had acid.” With effort, Bruce pulled him to his feet. Stark Jr wobbled hard, and for a second, Wayne Jr figured he needed to carry him back to their room. Then Tony grabbed the front of his shirt and brought their faces together. “Your eyes have the color of spun gold, Moosh, did'y'know?”

“I... no. Come on, can you walk back to the hotel? It's not that far.”  
One of his arms went around Tony's waist, then Bruce made a first probing step on the sand.  
“But, but – my fortress! I can't leave it unguarded, what if someone breaks in?”

Tony sounded downright appalled, and began to tear out of Bruce's grip. The latter held on tight.  
“I will come back to guard it, okay? For now, it's safe. Come on.”  
He pressed his lips together at the utter ridiculousness from his mouth. Tony nodded, relieved.

“Like the knight in shiny white armor... Brucie's my prince. M'real life price. Shh, don' tell him.”  
Glad for making progress, the Gothamite kept on trudging onward without a reply.  
His charge began to laugh again after a couple of seconds, a bubbling joyful sound from the back of his throat.

“We really mustn't tell him tho, kay? 'cause he f'sure don' like being called a prince.”  
Fairly amused, Bruce snorted and gripped Tony's limp wrist around his shoulders tighter.  
“So what's he like to be called then?”

For a brief moment, Tony stopped walking as he pondered the question, and almost faltered.  
“He'd never tell. Too modest. But he should be called my best friend f'rever, s'what. Mhm.”  
Wordless, Wayne prodded him on to resume their walking.

High up on the street across from their hotel, an hourglass figure leaned against a streetlight.  
“You manage on your own there, Bruce, or do you need help?”  
He cast her a thankful, if a bit peeved glance.

“I'll manage. Thanks for your help, Selina.”  
Tony's eyes wandered along her curvaceous body and rested upon her face. Then he frowned.  
“He's _my_ friend, not yours, ya hear? Shoooo!”

Her laughter was bright and clear, and Bruce was glad his skin was still red from sunburn.  
“Ain't nobody's gonna argue with that, twiggy boy. Sweet dreams later on.”  
She moved closer to grab Bruce's chin and press a small kiss upon his lips.

“Goodnight, stud. Till next time.”  
A sway of the hips, and she was gone. Indignant, Tony made a nasty sound with his tongue.  
“HEY! Who allowed you t'kiss 'im? Don' you ever go'n touch him 'gain, you bi---”  
  
When Bruce put his hand upon his mouth, Tony snapped his teeth at his fingers.  
Selina did not turn around anymore, and the two boys stumbled on alone.  
Stark Jr then pointed upwards at the illuminated windows of their hotel.

“All those shootin' stars, B, you see them, too? Make a wish... wish for t'greatest thing everrr!”  
Wayne Jr stopped, once they had made it into the foyer of their hotel, and exhaled deep.  
“I wish we'd be able to get back to our room real fast and without anyone calling the cops.”

Resolute, he then was quick to sweep Tony's staggering form up into his arms. It caused the younger boy to squeal out loud, to which Bruce shushed him and peeked around for witnesses. He opted for the stairs, despite the many steps that lay ahead of him and his wiggling charge.

“I do.”  
Tony giggled out loud, and Bruce looked down at him as he carried him through the hallways.  
“Do what?”

One of Tony's arms that had flopped lifelessly around came up to cup Bruce's cheek.  
“Isn't that what you say before being carried over the threshold? Silly Moosh. Sillysilly Moosh.”  
He broke into a hysterical giggle fit and almost caused Bruce to lose his balance.

He winced at the erupting pain from some strained ligaments in his knee, but kept on walking.  
“If I were able to find those guys that did this to you, I swear I'll...”  
Tony became more agitated in his grip, pointing ahead the long endless corridors.  
  
“Defend my honor, ye faithful knight – HEY, now I know! Boy, don't'cha realize? We're like King Arthur and Sir Lancelot! Nononono, like, like... _King Tony and Sir Bruce!”_ Tony's damp hair was full of sand, and Bruce noticed they were leaving quite a trail behind. The little grains stuck to Tony's eyebrows and lashes and made the Gothamite itch to wipe them away.

“You're quite sandy for a king there.”  
Dark brown eyes blinked up at him, with pupils far too dilated.  
“S from the fight at the fortress, you should 'member. It was spectacular; _you_ were spectacular.”

If Bruce had thought things would become easier once they were back in their room and he had tugged a toweled dry Tony into his bed, he was mistaken. The ending of Tony Stark's first LSD trip was bad. By 3 am, he was screaming almost nonstop at how all the walls, doors, and himself were running in blood. “Everything's alright, Tony, come on, be quiet, or they'll send someone to come looking.”  
  
Freaked out, Tony would stare from the door back down at the hairs on his arms. “They ARE coming! I can feel it. And look at me - 's growing too fast, Moosh, godhelpme!” He clawed at his cheeks and yelped in horror as he caught his reflection in the mirror. “My face! My face is mangled, ohmygodnono, what happened to my eyes?” Tony then began to cry; a heartbreaking devastated sobbing sound that tore at Bruce's soul.

The Gothamite had no choice but to pin his frantic best friend onto the bed, put his arms around him, and tried to soothe his frightened quivers and bouts of anxiety. As he lay there, holding Tony's shivering, wailing form for another two restless hours, Bruce made up his mind. Once the youngster had fallen into a fidgety sleep, his best friend got up, packed their bags and phoned reception to ask for a change in booking.

With a little help, he was able to get a flight the upcoming day, and asked for a cab to take them to the airport. Even on the backseat of the cab, eight hours later, Tony Stark was still not coherent enough to understand what was going on. He vaguely seemed to realize spring break was over, once Bruce fastened the seat belts around his semi-conscious form.

“Wh're we?”  
Bruce Wayne was all stone, eyes set deep, and with grave lines around his youthful mouth.  
“Going home.”  
  



	9. Chapter 9

For the first three weeks after their return to MIT, Bruce avoided too much contact with Tony. They were polite with and around each other when being at the apartment at the same time, but way more distant than before. Neither made an attempt to speak about the events during spring break, and rather let them linger between them like the proverbial elephant in the room.

Tony went back to going out on his own most of the evenings, while Bruce pursued his quest for the perfect physique, getting better grades than just C's on the subject of Electromagnetic waves and Maxwell's equations, and taking his beloved Camaro out for lengthy, solitude drives. At the end of April, said beloved Chevrolet convertible sadly died on him on a rainy, late Friday afternoon, about a mile away from Tang Hall.

Cursing out loud at the unpopulated streets and dark skies, the Gothamite pushed the vehicle through the downpour all by himself. No five minutes later, he was drenched all down to his underwear and wiping his forearm ever so often across his forehead to be able to see underneath soaked, too long bangs. Bruce's arms shook from the force he was trying to keep the Chevy in line with.

His sneakers gave way on slippery asphalt ever so often, and when the street seemed to morph into a slight uphill, Wayne Jr eventually had to give up. Panting, he reached inside the cabin and steered the Camaro into an empty parking space close by. Locking the convertible after taking all belongings out, Bruce cast it a few final worried glances back before he willed his long legs to do a final sprint to get out of the seeping cold.

It was after 7 pm when he entered the apartment, dripping wet, and in the foulest mood imaginable. Tony looked up from his spot on the couch at his entry. Perplexed, the younger boy pulled down his huge Sennheiser headphones and put his MAD magazine down in his lap. Then he broke into a rather amused grin as Bruce slipped out of his sodden black Converse chucks.

“S'Up? Driving with the top down?”  
Angry, Bruce wiped a wet sleeve over the little rivulets that ran down his face.  
“Just shut the fuck up, okay?!”  
  
He disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him with force and locking it. Tony was about to go back to putting his headphones back on when he heard a crash, followed by a muffled curse. Concerned, he put his magazine aside and stood up to listen up close. “Moosh?” Some coughing and rustling could be heard. “Not now!”

Stark Jr rapped against the door. Once, then twice.  
_“GO. AWAY!”  
_ Tony gnawed on the inside of his cheek.

“I need to pee. Open up!”  
  
His blatant lie earned him the turn of a lock after several more heartbeats. Bruce still wore his wet clothes, and Tony could not help but stare at the sight of his shapely backside in skin-tight denim. He made an inarticulate noise. “Bruce, hey, wait up. What happened?” Wayne shook his head with a stubborn set of the jaw and left the bathroom, leaving a trail of water behind.

Tony glimpsed at the spot he had vacated, in front of the sink, and noticed the dent in the wall right next to the towel rack. Turning on his heel, the younger boy stalked over to where Bruce just got rid of his soggy shirt and jeans and threw both items into the plastic laundry basket in the corner. As he stood, covered in rain-soaked boxer shorts and with goosebumps all over his body, Stark Jr. blocked his way out.

“Show me your right hand; knuckles to be exact.”  
Tony held a hand out into Bruce's direction. The latter harrumphed without complying.  
“Go take a piss, I need to shower.”

A shake of the head, then Tony invaded his personal space and grabbed for Bruce's wrist.  
“Aha. Matches the lovely new hole in the bathroom wall.”  
When Bruce drew his cold, bruised fingers back, Tony cocked his head with a tsking sound.

“Care to tell me why you felt the need to redecorate?”  
Wayne's hazel eyes were unable to hold his companion's gaze for long.  
“I'm really pissed off right now, Anthony, so you better get out of my way.”

The shorter boy crossed his arms in front of his chest and tried to gain a few more inches by pushing his chest out. “Why? Are you gonna hit me too if I don't?” Bruce seethed in his face like a raging bull. Tony then raised his chin. “Go for it, if it makes you feel better. I can take it.” The utter sincerity of his comment caused Bruce to sag his shoulders. Shaking his head, he squeezed past his friend.

“Oh, get real.”  
Feeling challenged, Tony stalked after him, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up.  
“What? You think I'm not strong enough? Maybe not, but I'm not a coward, ya hear?”

From his place in the doorway of the bathroom, the Gothamite cast a wary look over his shoulder.  
“As if I'd ever go and hurt you, stupid fool.”  
The door clicked shut, leaving a baffled Tony Stark behind.  
  
Once Bruce returned from the steamy bathroom, his skin held a much more rosy color. He was quick to get dressed in warm, comfortable sweats and found Tony loitering on the sofa. The younger boy still wore a thoughtful expression as his friend threw himself opposite from him. “Better now?” Bruce rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes and leaned back to stare at the ceiling.  
  
“I trashed the Camaro, I don't know how it happened, but...”  
Lightning fast, Tony sat up straight and loomed over him to peek down at Bruce's face.  
“ _You had an accident??_ And only tell me now?! What the hell, Moosh, are you hurt? What..”  
  
It took multiple tries to calm the anxious Stark scion down. “The engine just died on me at a red light, I couldn't get to push-start it in the dark and in all that goddamn rain, and nobody was around for help and it sucks. It's the only car I really like.” Relief resounded in Tony's exhale as he flopped back down into the couch. “Tomorrow we're gonna go and check. Have it fixed. _I_ can fix it, I'm sure. I'm good with cars.”  
  
Against his will, a small smile crept into the corners of Bruce's mouth.  
“If you say so.”  
Thinking back to tonight's party at The Channel, Tony Stark gave a resolute nod.  
  
“I'd say we break out Domino's, order some pizza and watch a movie. Police Academy's on.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

On Saturday afternoon, the two of them went to have a first look at the damage done. Bruce was glad Tony had been insistent on accompanying him, seeing that the car still did not start up. Stark Jr snapped the bonnet shut and brushed his palms off on his jeans. “Maybe just the battery. No biggie, all I need is to take a look under the hood and some tools.”  
  
Spirits lifted ever so slightly, Bruce squinted off into the distance. “We still need to get it somewhere safe, I don't want to leave it around here all the time.” Tony nodded and pushed his sleeves up.  “There's a garage not far from here, belonging to the wrencher's workshop – coupl'a guys from engineering offer a space to tinker around. We can put it there for time being, bring it back to life, improve it – whatever.”

When Bruce nodded, Tony came around and helped him push the car towards the campus. They had almost made it over to where Tony pointed at when a motorcycle sped past them. Through the sheen of sweat, Bruce blinked upwards and gave an enervated groan. Much to their bad luck, Tiberius Stone took a turn and pulled up to block their way with a malicious grin.  
  
“What a piece of junk you got there, Wayne. Did'cha let the baby monkey mess with it?”  
Bruce's chest began to swell with uprising anger, but he stayed rooted to Tony's side.  
“How about we take this to the streets, once you're done popping zits in front of the mirror?”  
  
Ty palmed his pimpled chin with an irate expression and stared Bruce down.  
“You need a lesson in eating dust, Wayne, and I'm gonna give it to ya.”  
Stone then kickstarted his bike with a forceful motion and pointed a finger at him.  
  
“Friday, 11 pm. Waverly Street parking lot. I'll show you just what kind of loser you are, and afterward, you're gonna lick my boots for everyone to see.” Bruce felt heat rush into his cheeks and clenched his fists. “Like hell I will!” Ty sneered and hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. “Tony'll do it then. He's always been good at putting dirty things into his mouth...right, Ante? Or do I remember high school wrong?”

When the Gothamite attempted to surge forward, blinded by impulsive rage, Tony's hand had to be fast to pull him back hard around his biceps. “Fuck off, Ty, ya hear?” With a satisfied laugh, Stone revved up the engine and sped off into the opposite direction. Stark Jr. looked up to where Bruce was breathing hard through his nose. He shoulder-bumped him to get him out of his deadly glare.  
  
“I want to mop the floor with that goddamn mug of his.”  
A manic glimmer lit up in Tony's eyes. His lips twisted into a sardonic grin.  
“Oh, we'll give him hell, Moosh, don't'cha worry there. But first... keys, please.”  
  
It was the first real spark Bruce saw on Tony's expressive features, ever since their fateful spring break return.

When Stark Jr held his palm up mid-air, his elder friend dropped the key ring into it without thinking or looking twice.

* * *

For the upcoming days and nights, Tony was not out partying, he was out tinkering. He had rented a spot within the 'gearhead shop' on campus, together with its most useful tools and equipment. Whenever Bruce would come around to visit him, Tony was either under the car, inside the car, or cursing at the car from a couple of feet away.

His hands and fingernails held permanent oil and grease stains, no matter how hard he scrubbed at them with Boroxo soap. In short: Tony Stark was as happy and carefree as he had not been in a long time. Much to his best friend's relief, he also was way more sober and immune to being corrupted by substance abuse than in all previous months combined.

One evening, Wayne came around with two large bags of cheeseburgers and fries, to find Tony on a car creeper, half of his body hidden under the Camaro. His dungarees were soiled at the knees, and the skinny legs inside bopped along to tinny tunes from a small transistor radio. With a smirk at the peculiar choice of a rock 'n roll station, Bruce yelled out to announce his presence.

When no reaction followed, he gave a little stub to one of Tony's dirty sneakers.  
"Feeding hours! Come and grab it while it's still hot... eh, lukewarm.”  
The head that appeared from underneath the car was framed by dirt specks and topped by disheveled hair.

Tony's white teeth shone brightly among the grease. He rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead a couple of times and held up a finger. “Just a sec. Let's do a quick sound check first!” He scrambled to his feet and grabbed a towel from the roof of the car to put around the door handle. Then Tony placed the fabric over the driver's seat, slipped onto it, and turned the keys.

A deep, aggressive purr resounded through the garage as he let the engine idle for a few seconds. Then he put the car in neutral and pressed down on the accelerator. Immediately Bruce Wayne's eyebrows shot up, and his serious face brightened with something close to delight. Tony stuck his head out of the open door, foot still on the accelerator.  
  
“That sounds gives ya wood, eh?”  
His friend let the crudity slide in favor of running his eyes all over his precious sports car.  
“Wow. Just wow. Tony, the sound is... amazing.”  
  
Stark Jr kept on letting the engine howl a little more, just to watch the look of pure rapture on Bruce's face. When he switched the motor off, Tony gave a little snap of his fingers and got out of the seat. He glanced back at the open bonnet and grinned. “Yeah, pretty neat already. Gettin' there. Put in new shorty headers and some schweet dual x-pipes – see 'em? Look for yourself, Moosh, see? 3'' stainless steel. Tha bomb. Look, c'mon!”

The way Tony dragged him by the sleeve caused Bruce to smile indulgently.  
“I will look at everything in detail _after_ dinner, kay?”  
His hand came to rest within the sweated nape of the shorter boy and squeezed. Tony nodded.  
  
“Gotcha! Now, where's the buffet?” Bruce nodded towards the arrangement of plastic chairs and table. He halted Tony's steps, however, and pointed his thumb over at the sink in the corner. “Go wash your hands first.” The shorter boy rolled his eyes and simultaneously poked his tongue at his friend. “Yes, Dad.” It earned him a gentle kick of Bruce's knee to his dirty, denim-clad behind.  
  
“Bag your face and move it!”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Ten minutes later, they had polished off most burgers and shoveled all of their remaining fries into one huge pile. Bruce slurped on his Pepsi when Tony crumpled the empty wrapper of his third cheeseburger and moved to crank up the radio as Sam Cooke started to play. For a while, they sat in silence, stubbed the leftover fries into the ketchup splotch on a napkin, and listened to the tinny sounds from the radio.

 _Don't know much about history,_  
_Don't know much biology._  
_Don't know much about a science book,_  
_Don't know much about the French I took._  
_But I do know that I love you,_  
_And I know that if you love me, too,_  
_What a wonderful world this would be._

Bruce gave Tony the eye as the latter put his feet up on the edge of the table, ankles crossed, but refrained from commenting. The Stark scion bopped his feet along to the rhythm and had begun to whistle quietly along. When Bruce eventually looked up again and caught him staring, Tony cleared his throat and averted his eyes. Wayne Jr also gave a little cough and stuffed his empty Pepsi cup into the paper bag.

“What's with the music? Thought you're into something more... metal.”  
  
Stark Jr gave a little shrug and grabbed a handful of flimsy paper napkins to wipe ketchup from his fingers. He then stood up to jam an adjustable torque back into the pouch dangling from his hip and sniffed. “Sometimes, dad let me work on his Ford Flathead Roadster with him. He always listens to rock'n roll in his garage, so it... kinda stuck, I dunno. We can change the station though.”

Bruce cast a glance at the Camaro before he grabbed the empty bags and diligently threw them into the trashcan on the side. “No, it's fine, I don't mind.” Tony graced him with an honest smile. He turned up the volume as Bruce patted down his hoodie jacket for his cigarettes. Wayne Jr then grinned around the unlit smoke in between his lips as Tony did some tap dancing on the concrete floor.

“Ever done the Lindy Hop?”  
Baffled, Tony shook his head. Bruce put the unused cigarette behind his ear and stood up.  
“It's gotta be more like this... see?”

Tony's jaw near dropped upon seeing Bruce Wayne do a series of quick, smooth dance moves.  
“Are you friggin kidding me, Moosh? Where'd you learn that?”  
Grinning from ear to ear around a set of flushed cheeks, the Gothamite shrugged.

“Summer camp.”

In no time, they were goofing around side by side to the sounds from the 50's and 60's.

When Bruce did not pay attention for a split second, glimpsing over at the door to make sure they were not being watched, it caused Tony and him to fall out of sync. Before Tony could stumble and fall down from where he had tripped over his friend's feet, Bruce caught him by the front of his dungaree and held him in place. Even as the music continued to blast out in the background, they stood frozen to the spot.

Bruce breathed hard through his nostrils as his fingers clenched around the denim straps. Tony's dark eyes darted within his for the longest time, before he closed them in slow motion. It took the slightest tilt up of his chin for Bruce to accept his invitation. Their first kiss since the spring break disaster was far more shy and tender than under the influence of party and alcohol.

Tony's hands reached up to cup his taller friend's cheeks as Bruce tentatively opened his mouth and allowed their tongues to touch.  
They had to separate by the need for oxygen at some point, but the Gothamite kept his forehead close to Tony's.  
“I tried to tell myself it was a mistake, but it wasn't. It's not.”  
  
Bruce's voice was barely a whisper, his breath ghosting over Tony's fluttering lashes. The latter smiled.  
“I'm glad you feel that way.”  
When Tony opened his eyes again, Bruce took his head away and leaned back.  
  
“Just... let's not rush it this time, okay?”  
The shorter boy shook his head so quick and so fast, he almost faltered from dizziness.  
“Nonono, course not. We'll do it like with the Camaro – it'll be even better the second time around.”

His fingers reached out to brush against some stains his fingertips had left on Bruce's cheek.  
“And it's gonna be nobody's business. If it's that important to you, Moosh, I can do it.”  
Wayne Jr said nothing and reached out to pull him into a tight hug instead.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song 'Wonderful World' by Sam Cooke. No copyright infringement intended.


	12. Chapter 12

It was a hot summer night when a small crowd gathered at the huge, empty parking lot just outside of MIT campus. A handful of older guys from Ty's clique were present, as well as Mike and Darrell Harris, and a nervous Tony. Much to everyone's surprise, Tiberius Stone showed up in a metallic blue Ford Mustang GT Enduro with an extractor hood, spoilers, and Recaro seats.

He also wore a confident, overbearing grin as he leaned against the car and sneered at his rival. “You pissing your pants already, Wayne?” Bruce chose to ignore the half-yelled remark, as well as the crude laughter of Ty's gang. Instead he focused on his anxious, short friend who pranced back and forth in front of him. “Relax, this won't take long.” Tony chewed intently on his gum and nodded.

“We're gonna give him hell. The Cammie's all good to rock and roll.”  
Wayne cast him a dubious look.  
“We? I'm not taking you along.”  
  
Tony stopped walking on the spot. His eyes turned frantic in less than a heartbeat.  
“W-what? Why not?! I'm not sitting on the sidelines here!”  
Bruce wore a tight smile as he shook his head.

“Every bit of extra weight would be make or break. And besides...” He squinted along the illuminated street in front of them. “I won't risk you getting hurt in case anything happens.” Tony breathed hard a couple of times, spit off his gum, and clenched his fists at his sides. “I wish I could either talk you outta this or at least be able to kiss you now.” His voice was low and desperate.  
  
With an uncommon cheekiness, Bruce poked him in the shoulder. “Kiss me afterward when I've won, alright?” Instead of looking him in the eye, Tony nodded and fished for his pack of cigarettes. “Be careful, ya hear?” The Gothamite gave a brief nod and started to walk towards his car, keys in his hand. Stark Jr then cupped his hands around his mouth.

“While you pedal the metal of course!”  
  
They shared a knowing look before Bruce got in and put on his seat belt. Tony was taking nervous, frequent drags of his cigarette, looking as if he was about to puke. Ty's crew was cheering him on, slapping his shoulders as he also got in behind the wheel. The elder student turned the ignition and cast his opponent a challenging look as he revved up the engine. Bruce only sat and stared at his dashboard in concentration.

“What's up there with your Slowmaro, Wayne? Wanna chicken out after all?”  
With circumspect movements, Bruce reached out and turned the keys.  
The Chevy sprang to life with a deep, purring sound, causing all spectators to fall silent for a second.

A tiny, diabolical grin tugged at the corners of the Gothamite's lips. The tuning of the Camaro's engine had been a matter of the heart for young Tony, and it had left Bruce all the more amazed at his friend's handy skills. He cast one final glance to the side and found Tony watching him like a hawk. Bruce then put his foot down and listened to the engine howling out, all the while keeping an eye on his friend.

The proud grin that spread out on Tony's face was all he wanted and needed to see.

Someone from Stone's crew went up and instructed both cars to roll into a starting position until their front tires were at the same level. He then put his arms in the air and began to count down. Bruce re-gripped the steering wheel tighter and licked his lips. The fingers of his right curled around the stick shift as he narrowed his eyes at the spot that marked the finish line.

The track was not more than an eighth mile long, which meant torque and traction mattered most. On given command, both cars then took off into the night with squealing tires, almost equal to reaction times. Bruce shifted within split seconds and kept his foot on the accelerator. The Camaro's aggressive noise reverberated through the cabin as the Mustang gained ground.

With gritted teeth, Bruce put his foot down even harder, until the end of the parking lot came in dangerously close proximity. Trying to outdo him, the Ford then got into a lift-off oversteer, made worse by Ty Stone's inexperienced tries to throttle down to keep the muscle car in line. Seconds before Bruce reached the finish line as the winner, the Mustang veered over right behind him.

It grazed the curb of the sidewalk with a grating sound, followed by a 360-degree spin, and came to a crashing halt against a couple of concrete planters. Bruce Wayne was the first one to leave his own car and sprint back over to where the Mustang stood and smoldered, its front axle broken and the passenger side wedged into the massive stone pots. He tore the driver's door open and dragged a dazed Ty Stone out of his seat.

As he looked across the parking lot, Bruce saw Tony, Mike and Darrell run towards them. Only two guys from Ty's clique were following them, the rest had mysteriously disappeared. Stone groaned out and shoved Bruce's arm away as he leaned against the totaled car. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! Fuck this shit! My brother's gonna kill me!” The Gothamite took a step back after making sure Ty was unharmed for the most part.  
  
“It's not even your car?”  
Furious and still full of adrenaline, the elder student slammed a fist upon the roof of the car.  
“No, you rich piece of shit! Fuck you and your fucking little rich friend, okay? Fuckin faggots!”

Without thinking, Bruce Wayne's right hand formed a tight fist. Even before their spectators had reached the scene, he drew back and landed a sharp blow right upon Ty's nose. The latter staggered back into his car with a scream of surprise and pain. “YOU ASSHOLE!” Frenzied, Stone hurled himself at Wayne immediately after, swinging and kicking mindlessly at everything in sight.

Of equal height, Ty also managed to get a good hit in. Bruce stumbled back as colors exploded before his vision and blurred his sight. He nevertheless pulled his fist back once more when a couple of arms went around him from behind, holding him in place. “Hey, hey, hey, STOP!” Angry, Bruce looked up and saw Mike and Darrell on each of his sides. A breathless Tony reached the scene mere seconds later.

Ty's two remaining friends got a hold of him as well and dragged the bleeding senior away. Panting, the Gothamite eventually stopped raging in the Harris boys' grip and searched for Tony's face. Once Mike and Darrell saw and felt him calm down, they took their hands off. “Whoot! Man, Bruce, that was just bombdigity, for real! You made him eat dust.”  
  
Darrell slapped his shoulder a couple of times before his brother pulled him over to examine the near-totaled Mustang.  
Ty Stone sat on the sidewalk and held a tissue under his bleeding nose.  
His two friends hovered around, embarrassed and helpless in equal shares.

“Let's go back home.”  
Bruce's voice was strained but demanding. He cast the Harris' brothers a final glance.  
“You guys want a ride?”

Mike shook his head and shoved his hands into his hoodie.  
“Nah, we good. Enjoy your victory party, Tyson. See you guys tomorrow.”  
Darrell waved them goodbye, but not without performing a few uppercuts in mid-air.

Tony, who had been staring at Bruce in perplexed silence for the longest time, followed without complaint and got into the Camaro's passenger seat. He eyed the swollen area around Bruce's left eye. A little blood had started to ooze out of a small laceration in his eyebrow.

“Shall I drive?”  
Bruce snorted without amusement and set the car in reverse.  
“So not.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consensual, sexual content between minors in this one. Read at own discretion.

The drive back to Tang Hall took them five minutes, and once they were up in their apartment, Tony immediately went to the bathroom. He came back with a small, brown bottle, cotton pads, some scissors, and a package of band aids in his hand. From where Bruce had thrown himself on the couch, feet propped up on the table, he cast him a dark look.

“No.”  
Undeterred, Tony plopped down next to him and lined all items up in front.  
_“Yes._ Lemme look at that shiner. Boy, looks like you won't be able to see tomorrow.”  
  
When the Gothamite tried to avoid his scrutiny, Tony planted himself on his lap and straddled him. Being trapped, Bruce had no choice when Tony took his glowering face in between his hands and leaned in to kiss him thoroughly. Under his amorous ministrations, Wayne eventually began to loosen up. His hands went around his friend's midriff to hold him in place.

Tony placed both his hands left and right of Wayne on the headrest. “You were hot as hell back there, B. My hot rod hero. All dark and dangerous...” His voice came out in clipped syllables as he pecked Bruce's lips with every second word. “... even though you didn't have to slug him after you already floored him good on track, but okay, I can sympathize.”

At that, Bruce's lips stopped responding and became a pinched line. Frustrated, Tony gave up. "What's eating you, Moosh? You're not the kind of guy to beat people to a pulp for nothing.” Wayne Jr tilted his head back until he was staring at the ceiling. “That bastard said something about us. He said... never mind what he said. I just had to.”  
  
Tony made use of Bruce's current position, reached over and grabbed a cotton pad and the bottle from the table.With care, he began to dab a sterile pad upon the cut in Bruce's eyebrow. “Fuck him. He's just a tard.” The alcohol must have stung on the open wound as Wayne tried to twist his head away. “Even worse if people like him can hurt us so much, make us vulnerable. I hate it.”

Once Tony was done, and Bruce wore a small stripe across his bruise, the younger boy began to kiss his way down that familiar, pale throat. A quick glance upwards proved how Wayne had closed his eyes and relaxed further into the touches. “We're not vulnerable, Moosh. Together we're invincible. Unstoppable. Irresistible.” Despite his gloom, Bruce had to grin.

Tony then began to slide downward until he came to a rest on the carpet, in between Bruce's legs. “Speaking of irresistible...” Nimble fingers opened the button to his jeans with a plop. The zipper gave a typical sound as it came down. Bruce raised his head to look down at the dark head on the floor. “Tony...” Molten brown eyes glinted back up at him, then glimpsed at the goal beneath blue boxers.  
  
“You've done your part well tonight, now Imma do mine. Lean back, relax, and enjoy, kay?” A strangled sound escaped the back of Bruce's throat as Tony pulled down the fabric and started with a few, tentative licks to the tip of his fast growing arousal. Bruce's left hand clawed into the edge of the sofa as Stark Jr took him into his mouth for the first time.

“God. _God.”_  
  
Tony only grinned around his meanwhile fully erect member and began to move up and down. Bruce's right hand came to rest upon his hair, digging into the thick mane. The warm and moist sensation caused him to squeeze his eyes shut and tilt his head back. Tony ran his hands from a V-position on Bruce's spread thighs over to his lower abdomen.

Wayne then groaned out in rapture; a rare sound Tony had never heard before. “If you keep this up, it'll be...I'll be...” When Tony released him with a wet plop and looked up, Bruce's eyes were as dark as the night. “Oh, I hope so, Moosh. Lose control for me, you don't know how much it turns me on.” Before Wayne was able to formulate another semi-coherent sentence, Stark went down on him again.

He began to suck even harder, carefully incorporating his teeth to scrape along the sensitive shaft. From the way Bruce began to mumble his name over and over, fingers all but tearing at Tony's hair, the latter knew he was close. With a well-timed, firm stroke of his right hand, Tony felt his cock give a final twitch. Bruce cried out, chiseled stomach clenching as he spent himself, and let go of his friend's hair.

Warmth spread inside Tony's mouth, and he patiently swallowed until he felt Bruce's member starting to go limp.“Wh're did you... how... I don't...” With a gentle kiss on each of the pale insides of his muscular thighs, Tony wiped his mouth with a grin and moved to scramble back up on the couch. “Finally found the best way to reduce the great Bruce Wayne to incoherent babble – I sure as hell am not telling.”

Eyes full of satisfaction, Tony watched his elder friend make an unsteady grasp for his pants.  



	14. Chapter 14

Tony's graduation took place in June 1987.  
  
The ceremony was held on a sunny warm day at MIT's huge outdoor campus area. The Stark heir had been agitated all morning, and Bruce had to assure him many times he would be there to cheer him on. “Think they'll be here as well?” Tony's nervous hands twirled the cord of his graduation hat over and over. Bruce took his dark blue jacket off the hanger and slipped it over his blue shirt and tie combo.

“Of course they will. It's a once in a lifetime event. And you're even top of the class, you little wonk.” Young Stark escaped the threat of having his styled hair ruffled by jumping out of Bruce's reach. “Can't help it if I'm a genius.” He grinned at the eye roll his hallmark boasting earned him. “Gee, I just hope they get it over with quick – it's gonna be hot under this thing and the suit.”  
  
Tony pointed to the black robe hanging at the door. Bruce shrugged. “I'll take your jacket for time being, so you don't have to wear it underneath.” All relieved, Tony nodded and went to collect a spontaneous hug from the taller boy. “I'm glad you're here with me, Moosh – hey, if I could, I'd go commando under that robe just for you.” They giggled along to distribute some of Tony's anxiety. Bruce clasped his shoulders.

“Come on, we should get there on time. You don't want to be late for your big day.”

* * *

The green lush lawns of MIT were buzzing with excitement. Bruce almost felt dizzy at over a hundred people swarming the place but focused on the person next to him. Tony already wore his robe, but kept his hat in his hands to keep his twiddling fingers busy.

“There's Jarvis!”  
  
He pointed over to a tall person walking their way. Without thinking, Tony broke into a sprint to throw himself into the tall butler's arms. For a man in his late sixties, Edwin Jarvis struck a dignified pose at 5'11 with a head full of white hair, and two astute gray-blue eyes. Bruce forced himself to watch as the tall butler twirled the dark-haired boy around with agility and strength before he set him down.

“Congratulations, Tony, you can be so proud of yourself!”  
The butler put each of his big hands on the black robe and the slim shoulders underneath.  
While his eyes gleamed with pride down at his young protege, Tony began to look around, confused.

“Where's dad?”

The butler squeezed his shoulder once more, almost apologetic. “I'm sorry, Tony, he tried but he could not make it today. Something came up on short notice at the office, but...” Jarvis guided him by the shoulders to look over at the person approaching them. “... your mother is here, look.”

Maria Stark tiptoed along the gravel path on her high heeled pumps, a small bag over her shoulder as she adjusted the silken scarf around her head. Dressed in an elegant costume, she looked right out of the pages of a Harper's Bazaar magazine and was turning a lot of heads. “Antonino! Dio Mio, you look so handsome! Come here!” With awkward dignity, she slightly bent at the knees to take her son's cheeks in her palms.

“Your father might be unable to attend, Tesoro, but I am here, aren't you happy to see me?”

Her red lipstick left a mark on Tony's skin. He rubbed at the area without thinking and cast a helpless glance over at his passive best friend standing ten feet away. Finally, Maria Stark acknowledged the Gothamite as well, with a smile and an exaggerated, blown kiss. She faltered when trying to address Bruce by his name, but overplayed her ignorance with another laugh.

Bruce clutched at Tony's jacket with an expression of being uncomfortable and needless. Tony just ground his teeth and stared over at the empty limousine in the back. “Guess I should've known.” At her son's bitter words, Maria's mouth moved in an awkward fashion. Her right hand brushed at a non-existent strand of hair before she began to dig into her little purse.

“Here, look, I brought a camera along, so we can take pictures for your father. Jarvis, can you...?”  
Maria thrust the small item into the butler's hand and put her red fingernails into Tony's arm.  
The look Tony threw Bruce was one of misery, but he put up a brave facade when the shutter clicked a couple of times.

A voice over the speakers then announced the official start of the ceremony. Glad for the distraction, Tony pried himself free of his mother's grip and went to resume his place amidst the huge group of graduates. Bruce followed the butler and Maria Stark at a respectful distance. From the spectators' seats, the Gothamite soon zoned out and tried to only focus on Tony.

On Tony who sat in the third row and gnawed at his bottom lip, just like he did whenever he was upset but did not get to vent.  
On Tony who attempted to listen to the commencement speech as if he really paid attention when he was anything but.  
On Anthony Edward Stark when he got called out on stage and was announced to have graduated summa cum laude.

Unbeknownst from anybody else, Bruce Wayne's heart swelled with pride underneath his hot, sticky ensemble of suit and tie.

* * *

After two hours and twenty minutes, the ceremony was over.

The lawns began to clear as many students went with their relatives and friends to a place somewhere inside the halls. Tony meandered over to where Bruce stood, offside his mother and his butler. The two friends shared a quick but knowing look, and Tony focused on the meticulous way Bruce cradled his jacket in his hands as if to protect it from getting wrinkled. Maria Stark adjusted her Dior sunglasses and looked at her watch.

“Andiamo, let us go for lunch. I have picked a very nice restaurant, but we need to get there in time.”  
Tony stood and nodded, looking almost forlorn with his diploma in his fist.  
“C'mon Moosh, hope you're hungry already.”  
  
His mother gave a shrill laugh and waved a manicured hand at him.  
“Oh, no, Antonio, that's not possible.”  
Helpless, the Stark heir cast huge brown eyes over to his silent, uncomfortable looking friend.  
  
“I'm only going if he comes along. I want Bruce there, too.”

Tony's voice was nothing but petulant. Jarvis stood by the open door of the Sedan and glanced from him to Maria and back. Bruce bit down on his bottom lip to refrain from intervening and saying something wrong. "Mi dispiace, Tonino, we only have a table for two, and there will be a lot of people for the charity organization I am supporting. All the ladies from Habitat for Humanity will be there.”

With each new word, Tony's face visibly darkened and fell.  
Bruce then decided to defuse the ticking bomb that was his best friend.  
“I can't come anyhow, Tony, I've got to finish my studies for tomorrow. I'll meet you back at our apartment later on, okay? Have fun.”

The look that Tony threw him spoke of nothing but treason and disappointment.  
With a snatch, he took his jacket out of Bruce's hands.  
His friend tried to touch him, but Tony drew his arm away with force.  
  
Wordless, the Stark scion then turned around and got into the backseat of the limousine.  
Maria Stark cast the Gothamite a final look and tilted her head.  
“I am sorry Bruce, but thank you for being so understanding.”  
  
The elder boy nodded once, serious look on his face, and watched the town car drive off.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some smut-ish stuff for the last chapter of this part

When Bruce heard the keys turning in the lock two and a half hours later, he put Tony's yearbook aside and looked up. Stark Jr, still dressed up in his suit and tie ensemble, closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. “How was it? Where did you go?” Wayne Jr tried to make his voice sound upbeat as he regarded his friend's jaded countenance.  
  
“A publicity stunt par excellence. Godawful. I don't want to talk about it now or, like, ever.” He yanked off his jacket and threw it over the headrest of the couch. Instead of taking a seat next to his friend, Tony stormed over to his bedroom. In the doorway, he stopped with one hand against the frame and turned to look over his shoulder. “I would've needed you there, Moosh, but you left me alone, and...”  
  
Angry at himself and his bout of emotion, Tony stared at the ground and walked on. Bruce got up to follow him, occupying the space Stark Jr had just vacated. “I didn't belong there with your family on your special day, Tony. Your mother...” Helpless, he ran both his hands through the thick, long mane that was touching his shoulders. “... she's probably wondering why you never bring a girl home these days.”

Tony harrumphed at him as he pulled the shirt out of his pants' waistband. “I've long since decided life's too short to worry bout speculations and what if's.” Bruce watched him pry the knot of his silken tie open until Tony threw the item aside on the floor. “Plus, my mother's so far out there, she doesn't even know what degree I've actually gotten.”

A pain-filled emotion hushed over Bruce's angular face; so quick that Tony did not notice it.  
“At least you still have parents, even if that doesn't mean as much to you as it should.”  
Tony fell silent for a moment and sat down on the edge of his bed to take off his shoes.

Bruce watched him fumble with the thin, black shoe laces for a couple of seconds. A dull thud followed as Tony first chucked one shoe aside, then the other one. The Gothamite crossed his arms. “And think ahead there, consider your background. You're taking over Stark Industries in the future; it's hard to make business with people who know... too much. There's too much to lose.”

When Tony straightened up, he wore an expression that hovered between affection and irritation. “Oh God, will you shut up? Let me tell you one thing right now: All that I can't lose is right here, in front of me, trying to be all martyr and whatnot, while sporting a hairdo that's so utterly ridiculous, I wonder if I'm even able to get a hard-on, like, _ever_ again.”

After a few heartbeats, Bruce then attacked him with a mighty jump onto the bed.  
“I'll give you ridiculous, you spoiled little, genius brat!”  
He then began to tickle the graduate until he cried and writhed, red-faced, on the mattress.

Once the Gothamite had his victim pinned down, he began to tug open the buttons of Tony's shirt, leaving a trail of moist kisses behind, all the way down to his black dress pants. And grinned back up at the hitching sounds in the back of the youngster's throat. “Your hard-on works just fine, by the way.” When Bruce put his mouth over Tony's hidden erection and hummed against it, Stark squealed.  
  
“It... it does? You should have a look and check... t'make sure.”  
The sound of a zipper being pulled down filled the air. Tony's head fell onto the pillow.  
“So? What's up, doc? What the verdi... ohh yes.”  
  
Bruce's mouth was too busy to answer, much to Tony's delight.  
“Been pr... practicing there, Moosh? Sure f-ffeels like....unfff.”  
To the sounds of Tony's rapturous stutter, Bruce attacked him with fingers, mouth, and tongue.  
  
“Learned from the best. Plus, they say I've got a photographic memory.”

It did not take him too long to turn Tony's wisecracks into excessive moaning soon after. Less than five minutes later, Stark Jr came with an unabashed cry, head tilted back and both legs wrapped tight around Bruce's solid form. With a fairly triumphant grin, the Gothamite wiped the back of a sleeve over his mouth and flopped down next to his friend.

“Feelin better now, you and your non-existent hard-on?”  
Spent and weak-limbed, Tony moved to slap a limp hand against Bruce's chest.  
“Keep on growing your hair out, hippie prince. If that's the price I gotta pay, then go for it.”

After several more minutes, they moved into a more comfortable position. Once Tony had recovered, his hands began to wander until they felt for Bruce's still present erection inside his sweat pants. “Now, what to do about that situation down here?” The other boy allowed him to take off his shirt, giving little vocal affirmations when Tony kissed his way along his throat before his hand went to fondle him inside his pants.

“If you intend on making a mess, at least take precautions.”  
  
Grinning along, Tony slipped the gray cotton off his legs. He kissed the area around Bruce's arousal with feather-like pecks and resumed a straddling position atop Bruce's thighs. Without taking his eyes off his best friend, he began to stroke him, all the while watching his reactions. “Always the control freak, eh, B?” A twist of his wrist and Tony grinned in triumph when Bruce's eyelids fluttered shut.  
  
“Even though you're nothing but a volcano underneath...”  
Despite his state of bliss, the Gothamite managed a sarcastic smirk.  
“How apt a comparison.”  
  
He clenched his jaw when Tony began to administer a faster pace. “Yeah. And how much I love it when I get to see that volcano erupt...” From the pulsing inside his palm, Tony knew how to apply the right amount of pressure and pace, and had his friend groan out in release only seconds later. While Bruce licked his lips and swallowed for air, Tony fished for a Kleenex and cleaned him up.

He then snuggled up until the tip of his nose touched against Bruce's warm neck, with its erratic and still fluttering pulse underneath. “I really missed you at lunch. It was so awful. My mother was buzzing around like a bee with all those old, painted on hags. Jarvis had to bring her drink after drink, and I... needed you.” Bruce opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His fingers brushed against Tony's warm skin.

“I couldn't have come along, even if I wanted to. I... there's too much that reminded me.”  
Bewildered, Stark Jr stopped nuzzling his skin and raised his head to look him in the eye.  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Jarvis, he...” Bruce stopped, but Tony withheld the urge to press on. Instead, he put his head back on Bruce's arm and began to trace lines on his chest instead. “... he reminds me a lot of Alfred, and I... it's not helping, okay?” Tony gave a slow nod against the crook of his armpit. “He likes you, though. Jarvis I mean. Been asking me questions all the time, once my mother was flying around the room with her champagne.”

Alarmed, Bruce turned to look at him. “Does he... know? Did you tell him about us?” Tony sniggered and lightly pinched a darkened nipple. “Silly, don't be scared. First of all, when Jarvis sets out to grill ya, there ain't no way out. And second, he _can_ keep a secret. Lord knows how many of them he's kept for me over the years.” When Bruce remained pensive, Tony moved to drape himself over his bare, muscled body.

He drew the blanket over them both, leveled his palms atop of Bruce's sternum, and put his chin on it. Then he gave a lopsided smirk. “Let me tell you the most important one: When I was ten, I broke into my father's office when he was at work, and drank half a bottle of whiskey. Jarvis found me only after I had already puked all over dad's desk. Up to this day, my father never found out.”

Despite the grave, mental picture, Bruce had to grin. White teeth gleamed back at him. “Now you're the second person ever on earth who knows. Got a secret to share in return?” At first, the Gothamite did not answer. Then he reached up, encircled his younger lover's waist and twisted them around so that he was able to pin Tony down with care. Hazel eyes darted in between dark brown ones, then Bruce dipped his head low.

“I don't want anyone but you. Never have, never will.”  
Wayne Jr's voice was gruff as he mumbled into the mattress, next to Tony's left ear.  
Stark Jr reached up and ran a hand through the thick mane, soaking up Bruce's unique scent.  
  
“That's a great secret to share with me, Moosh. The greatest there is.”  
  
**END of Part III**

 


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